Throughout the remainder of that week, Lennox fought against the dishonourable side of his nature, taking scrupulous pains to behave with unimpeachable moral rectitude towards his pretty young pupil.

True, he caned Elizabeth twice again. True, on both times he caned her on her bare behind, just as he warned her he would. But on neither occasion did he allow his hand to touch her bottom, let alone her private parts. He administered the punishments with an air of grim, tight-lipped propriety, keeping all traces of sensual delight firmly locked away - though at night in the safety of his room he freely gave rein to his masturbatory urges.

Elizabeth's first bare-bottom caning occurred halfway through Thursday morning during a lesson on French verbs, when Lennox was busily explaining the 'perfect' tense on the blackboard. She got into a dreadful muddle with the verbs conjugated using 'avoir', and the so-called 'unlucky thirteen' verbs conjugated with 'etre', and ended up relying on guesswork for the answers to the exercises he had set.

She frowned in perplexity at the dozen or so French sentences he had chalked up with a bold, calligraphic hand on the board. It was her own fault, she knew, for not paying sufficient attention to her tutor's explanatory lecture.

In a last ditch attempt to get the exercises right, Elizabeth crossed out nearly all her original answers and substituted 'avoir' for 'etre' and vice-versa. Her tummy began to churn in nervous anticipation as she sensed the approach of yet another painful and humiliating punishment.

Lennox was reading at his desk. After the allotted time for her to complete the work had elapsed he closed his book and simply said, "Come, Elizabeth," holding out his hand to receive the fruits of her labour.

She rose awkwardly from the tiny pupil's desk, taking care not to snag her black stockings. Holding her exercise book in trembling fingers she walked slowly towards him.

He took it silently, indicating that she stand by his chair while he corrected her work. She moved with reluctance into position until the hem of her skirt was practically touching his trousered thigh. Her head was downcast, hidden in the waist-length dark blonde hair. She didn't really want to see the horrid bit that was about to happen next.

With snorts of derision and mounting irritation he put big red crosses against all but one of the answers. Then he slammed down his pen and sat back in the chair, wringing his hands in exasperation. "Oh dear me, Elizabeth," he sighed, "we don't seem to have grasped the concept of the perfect tense, do we!"

"Would you like me to have another try at it, sir?" Elizabeth said hopefully, trying to hide her growing agitation.

"No, that is not what I have in mind," he said, rising from his chair. "it is plain we will have to begin again from the beginning. Since I have conspicuously failed to drum the rules governing the perfect tense into your idle brain, Elizabeth,perhaps this second time I shall have more success if I drum them into you from the other end!"

He went quickly to fetch the cane, trying to conceal his delight that yet another good reason for punishing her had just presented itself. Elizabeth just stood there biting her lip miserably. How she dreaded that cane!

This time Lennox made her adopt a different posture from before. He wanted to see her in the classic schoolboy position, bending over and touching her toes with her knickers down around her ankles. The view of Elizabeth's naked rear thus afforded him would be, to say the least, interesting....

"Stand in the centre of the room with your back to me. Pull up your skirt, lower your knickers, then bend right over until you are touching your toes," he commanded, cane in hand, revelling in his power over her.

No modest, well brought-up young lady would react equably to being told by a man to bare her bottom and bend over before him.

Elizabeth was no exception. Her face turned crimson. Why, she thought, shaking with embarrassed terror, he'll surely see everything there is of me!

"Come along, Elizabeth, I don't like to be kept waiting," he urged her, fingering the long yellow cane.

Her cheeks burning with mortification she put her hands up inside the tiny pleated skirt and fumbled self-consciously. There was a muffled 'ping' of elastic as she peeled her knickers down below her knees then let them slip softly to the floor. She felt immensely humbled, for it seemed an act of irrevocable surrender to him.

"Now the skirt," he reminded her, not daring to trust his own hands to perform that delicate office.

She looked pleadingly at him for a second before lifting the hem of the little garment well clear of the intended path of the cane. Lennox stared and stared, spellbound at his very first sight of Elizabeth's naked bottom. How he'd yearned and lusted for this magical moment! His prick stirred into life. Her right buttock, particularly, still bore striking reminders of Tuesday's first caning.

Then, graceful as a dancer, she obediently jack-knifed into position until she was touching the tips of her shiny black low-heeled shoes with her extended fingers. As she gazed down through the dark-blonde screen of her hair at the carpeted floor beneath, Elizabeth could see her little white cotton knickers lying crumpled around her ankles. Her outraged modesty and dread of the white-hot pain shortly to be visited upon her bare bottom made her long for the snug comfort of their protection.

From where he was standing behind her, all Lennox could now see of Elizabeth were her black, stockinged legs, long and straight, and the fleshy white target of her beautiful buttocks, swaying erotically as she rocked slightly on her heels, doing her best to maintain the uncomfortable, undignified posture.

His prick rose in his trousers and throbbed unbearably as he studied the pert dainty perfection of her out-thrust bottom cheeks, noting the dark, unexplored little vale between them. The wispy blonde hair guarding the sacred mystery of her virgin sex.

He flexed the long whippy cane in both hands, then measured it against the width of her bottom with the keen eye of a practised disciplinarian.

Elizabeth screwed up her face and tensed up, waiting for the first stroke to fall. She heard the awful whirring sound as it sped through the air, and she bit her lip to stop herself from screaming.

This time he caned her rapidly. Six searing cuts that followed one another so fast she hardly had time to in between each stroke to draw breath and yell out her distress. She tried pluckily to remain in position touching her toes, but by the fifth and sixthth strokes she was tottering perilously.

The cane seemed to bite really viciously into her bare flesh, much more so than when it landed on her knickers. After the sixth stroke fell, so cruelly and so quickly,her bottom felt as though it had been branded with red-hot wires.

For a while she was speechless with agony. Then she let out a low mortified wail. "It feels on fire!" she gasped, rubbing herself frantically.

And while the effects of the caning were so freshly imprinted on her crimson-striped rear, Lennox led her by the ear to the blackboard where he impassively proceeded to go over again the rules governing the perfect tense.

This time, frantically gulping back her tears, Elizabeth listened intently to every word he uttered.

Finally, by way of illustration, he commanded her to write on the blackboard, "J'ai recu la fessee" which was the nearest equivalent he could think of to "I have been whipped."

The following morning when Elizabeth was hurrying to complete an English composition, she accidentally knocked over the inkpot, staining her skirt and ruining the exercise book she was writing in.

Lennox had no compunction about giving her eight whistling strokes on her bare bottom, despite the presence of the six raised weals from the previous day's caning.

She tried so hard to be brave but the final stroke landed so viciously low upon the baby-soft undercurve of her buttocks that her shrill screams rang throughout the house, startling the servants.

Thus it was that by the end of the week Elizabeth's once unblemished bottom was marred by ugly yellowish-black bruises, although the skin was nowhere near broken.

Strange as it might seem, Elizabeth's devotion to her tutor increased in leaps and bounds each time he caned her. If she had been allowed any say in the matter she would have opted for spankings instead, for she derived no pleasure at all from the cane's appalling smart. But by now she had travelled some considerable way along the path of acceptance and she knew he was only caning her for her own good. The fact that he cared enough about her to do it was, for Elizabeth, more than ample compensation for the pain.

I can't say I am a fan of the "touch the toes" position, because I can't touch anything below my knees, but it does make for a delightful mental image.

Monday, October 30, 2017

What a wonderful turnout for our 200th brunch celebration. We discussed whether childhood spanking results in an adult interest, and here's what you said.

Simon: Being positively ancient when I was young it was normal for children to
be spanked at home, school and virtually everywhere. My parents however
did not believe in physical punishments so neither I or my siblings
were punished in this way at home. As I am disabled I was not punished
at school despite the fact that my disability would not really have
prevented it. In fact the only time I was spanked was in hospital by the
sister in charge of the ward I was on. If anything shows how much times
have changed it is that, can you imagine the outcry these days if a
medical professional hit a child in their care. In truth I was behaving
very badly and it was only a few smacks on my pyjama bottoms. I don't
think this was the cause of my love of spankings etc, in fact it was the
spankings given to other children that I witnessed that were a far
bigger influence. When I was 13 years old I remember seeing a young
female classmate being bent over the horse during a P.E. lesson and
having her skirt flipped up for a slippering on her knickers and
realising that I had become aroused and I suspect that other boys and
possibly girls were affected in the same way.

Anon 1: Not as a child, desire to give was strong, it has changed to wanting to get.

Subone: I was spanked as a child. I don't think it led to me wanting to spanked as an adult.

Sir Wendel: Yes and mostly likely helped.

I had wonderful loving parents but
they would spank and sometimes whip my bottom when I acted up. The
moment I associate most with my fascination was when I was thirteen. I
had just received a whipping from my mom. Afterwards I had to stay in my
room for thirty minutes. I noticed the girl next door changing so I
spied on her as she undressed and put a bikini on and have been
interested in spanking ever since.

I can only ever recall being spanked once as a child. My mother would kn occasion deliver one slap to the thigh however.

Bogey: I was the recipient of corporal punishment - frequently at school,
rarely at home. I don't think it had much to do with my fascination with
spanking as an adult. I date it to a moment when I was 19. I was in the
Navy and I was trading adult magazines with another guy. One of his
magazines had a picture of a woman spanking another on the cover. Right
then, my heart rate went up. Spanking and sexual arousal were forever
fused together in my mind. It was no longer pain, it was all for
pleasure.

Anon 2: I'm certain that my fascination relates to a spanking I received as a
child. I was about seven years old when I got a "warning" spanking. This
was to inform my thinking about future misbehavior (specifically
playing with matches). Step-mom gave me 3 or 4 mostly mild swats on my
fully clothed bottom with her belt. It didn't take me long to wonder how
it would feel in my underpants, with a bare bottom, and on my hands
(Canadian school in the 1950s).

Being the industrious child, I
worked on finding out. I achieved my goals in fairly short order. I
found I liked everything about spankings and strappings. Well, maybe not
the instant of impact, but certainly the planning, anticipation and
remembrance of the event.

My only regret is not telling my wife
until some 25 years into our marriage. She has warmed to my desires,
except for strapping my hands. That's an very acceptable trade-off for
some 20 years of being given a deliciously sore bottom.

Here's hoping we all get what we want and deserve.

Ronnie: Congratulations on the 200th brunch. I was happy you decided to take over brunch from Bonnie.

As I was never spanked as a child, can't really answer the question.

Yorkie: I was never spanked as a child though I do remember having a fascination with it at a very early age.

Jack: Congratulations on 200th Brunch. That is a lot of work! It is appreciated. Thank you for hosting.

Yes,
I was spanked as a child. I grew up in the southern US and spanking
was allowed, and frequently used, in the schools I attended. I received
my share of spankings. I do not believe that corporal punishment works
as a behavior modification. It did not change my behavior. But it did
get my attention and it did get the message across. Neither the school
Deans or Principal nor the spanking are going to change my behavior,
only I can do that.

Yes, I believe that the spankings at school
affected my desires. The middle school I attended had a Dean of Boys and
a Dean of Girls. Paddling was the major discipline method used. The
waiting room to see the Dean was common. The Deans had separate offices
and the they opened off of the waiting room. The walls were too thin
and the paddling could be heard by all.

Before a paddling was
delivered, one of the administrative assistants were always called to
the office (always a woman) she was a witness and had to sign a form
regarding the discipline used). We knew a paddling was imminent when an
administrative assistant would would come through the waiting room and
knock on one of the doors. They would enter, close the door behind them
and within a few minutes later we would all hear the three swats - one
after another. The administrative assistant would leave. And a couple
of minutes later the student would emerge. It was always a little bit
unnerving as each of us knew we would have our turn in due time.

I
believe it had a major effect on me, as I was the youngest in my class
and as a male I developed physically later than the girls, and because I
was younger, I developed later than most or all of the other boys (so
for most of middle school, I looked like a stick with arms). The girls
were already developing and some had many displayed the prominent
curves of a fully developed and sexually mature female. Obviously I was
not attractive to them, but they were already starting to be attractive
to me.

To make matters worse, the Dean of girls was a very
attractive woman. So somehow, my developing brain, I think, cross-wired
an attraction to dominant woman (desirable) and submissive women
(desirable) - especially after a spanking.

Honestly, if I was
tasked with developing a discipline system that was completely
ineffective in modifying student's behavior, but would likely cause
perversion when the students developed into adults, I am not sure I
could do better than that system. (In case any one could not tell that
sentence was sarcasm! I am against spanking children. Period. It does
not work. And in my opinion, the spanker is a bully!)

But for For adults spanking adults, that is a different matter.

Thanks for the question. That was a tough one.

Hermione: I was indeed spanked as a child, as was common in the era in which I grew up. But to the best of my recollection, it was seeing another child being spanked when I was four that started me on the road to eroticism linked to spankings. My four-year-old cousin and his parents were visiting, and I accidentally walked into the bathroom and saw, for the first time, how little boys were different from little girls. The adults were horrified and there was a great to-do. I didn't understand the fuss, but felt terribly guilty. A day later, I saw my aunt put my cousin over her lap and give him a sound spanking for some misbehaviour. I had already discovered masturbation, which the also a source of much guilt and adult overreaction. My childish mind associated spanking with sexual pleasure and guilt, and a spanko was born.

Katie: Congratulations on your 200th Brunch, Hermione!:) I often don't make it
in time for brunch, but you serve up some excellent questions, and I
enjoying reading the responses. Thank you for taking this on, when
Bonnie retired.

I can only remember being spanked twice as a
child. My dad who was a wonderful father, was the spanker. I can't
remember what I did the first time- I was all of 6 I think. The second
time I was about 11, and I think that I was very rude to my mother. I
remember feeling a bit traumatized after that one, as I was starting to
grow into puberty, and was modest, etc. I do remember my mother being
mad at my father about it all. It was no long thing, just a handful of
spanks with his mighty hand, but my dad made his point. On both
occasions, I remember him lovingly apologizing, and talking with me
about my behavior. Do I think that it led to my interest in being
spanked? Never say never, but I don't think so.

Sunday, October 29, 2017

Can you believe it? This is our 200th brunch together since Bonnie entrusted me with her very popular spanko brunch and I took it over. I extend my sincere and heartfelt thanks to all those who keep the ritual going by joining in the conversation each week.

Today's topic is one that I have avoided over the years since this blog is strictly about spanking between consenting adults. However, Amy recently raised the question on Ronnie's blog with a comment on this post, and they and others thought it would make a good brunch topic. So here goes:

Were you spanked as a child? If so, do you think it had anything to do with your desire to be spanked as an adult?

You know the drill. Leave your response as a comment, and I will publish a summary of our discussion after everyone has had a chance to speak. Oh, and do help yourselves to some cake.

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Dave: "The losing team shall prepare,and share, a picnic with me." That should
provide everyone with enough motivation to go for the win!

Rosco: As a coach, I’d say “Loser gets a spanking; winner gets to watch”. or is
it the other way around? I’m open minded about motivating the team. It
might take awhile to turn that expanse of creamy flesh to an appropriate
crimson, but I’m not one to shirk my responsibilities.

Anon 1: Where did you say the ball goes?

KDPierre: (Girl with foot on ball) "Let's play for stakes! How about if I lose you can give me a good spanking?"(Waiting girl) "OK. But what do you want if you win?"(Girl with foot on ball) "Why, a re-match of course!"

Paul: The normally bratty Sarah hadn’t been spanked in a week and wanted to
show the crowd as much of her unmarked bottom as she could.

Ronnie: Get past me with the ball and you can choose the implement for your spanking.

Anon 2: If the winner spanks the loser, but the loser enjoys it, don't they
become the winner and the cycle repeats? (I just gave myself a
headache.)

Sir Wendel: Can’t think of anything. I just want to spank her.

Jack: The loser has to (gets to?) strip and take 1 lap around the field for
each point by which they lost. The winning team gets to point and
laugh. (That is not what you were expecting for a spanking blog, was it? OK! Fine!)

Or that can choose a spanking instead!(See, I get it - I am just a little slow.)

Hermione: this was the final match, and the stakes were high, so both teams optimistically dressed for the congratulatory caning.

Friday, October 27, 2017

It's Friday, and at most of the places I have worked, everyone goes out for lunch together to celebrate the successful completing of another week. But before you choose a restaurant, you might want to see what these insiders had to say about the fast food places where they worked.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

We have finally arrived at the point where Mr. Lennox has no choice but to cane Elizabeth. The elegantly detailed descriptions and exquisitely drawn-out buildup keep us waiting for the final moment to arrive. But it is not so much the actual caning as what came after it that appealed to me the most.

In a Mist Chapter 7 - In which Elizabeth makes her acquaintance with the cane

The first thing Elizabeth did when she woke up next morning after a long undisturbed sleep was to go to the mirror, pull down her pyjama trousers, and examine her bottom. There were no longer any visible signs of the previous day's spankings, and the smarting had gone too. But when she touched herself there shew was conscious of a pleasant glowing sensation--proving that she really had been spanked. So it hadn't been just a dream.

putting on dressing gown and slippers she went next door to run a bath. When it was ready she immersed her body in its sensuous warmth and began to soap herself, paying special attention to her breasts, her bottom, and her private parts. She lay there until the water grew cool, fantasising dreamily about her stern handsome young tutor. Afterwards she slipped on some everyday clothes and went down to breakfast.

As on the previous day Mr. Lennox had breakfasted before her, but she noticed from his unused plate and cutlery that he hadn't touched the food and had merely partaken of the coffee.

Elizabeth on the other hand ate ravenously. Being spanked must be good for the appetite, she thought with a smile. In fact her entire constitution was pulsing with healthful energy. She walked with a new spring in her step, her eyes sparkled, and her mind felt sharp and crystal-clear. This was quite extraordinary, for in the mornings she was usually sluggish and bad-tempered, not fir for human company until mid-day.

It was not yet nine o'clock when she returned to her room th change into her uniform. Ample time to prepare herself. This morning she was determined to arrive early.

Her excitement grew as she drew on her stockings and fastened them to her garter-belt. The sheer black stockings seemed to emphasise the opal-cream fragility of her bottom, its soft rounded cheeks jutting out just a little too prominently for her peace of mind. As she had done the afternoon before, she stood for a while contemplating the ivory moons of her behind in the mahogany-framed mirror.

Just a hint of plumpness but by no means fat. How she hated fat bottoms on women--like for instance old Mrs. Poultney's, grotesquely elephantine beneath her matronly tweed skirts. Sven Florence Elizabeth judged to be too broad in the beam by far. Why, she wrinkled up her nose in amusement, it would take a whole regiment of soldiers to do justice to that big fat bottom of hers.

Whereas hers by comparison was daintily round and ripe, just asking for an appreciative slap from the hand of a male admirer. She stroked it lovingly. It felt firm yet at the same time as delicate and fragile as porcelain china. She reached for the talcum and lightly dusted her bottom-cheeks with it, The fragrant powder clinging to the barely visible little blond down that grew there.

She looked at her watch. Nine-thirty-three already! Had she wasted all that precious time in stupid daydreaming?

Now she was going to be in for it!

she dived into her cotton shimmy then wriggled into her panties, drawing them up snugly around her wist and tucking the hem of her shimmy into the elasticized waistband.

The blouse was even tighter than she'd feared. It constricted her breasts and she hardly dared take a deep breath in case the buttons popped undone and the garment flew open.

And as for the grey pleated skirt it was as if it had shrunk during the intervening years. Although the waistband still fitted comfortably Elizabeth was dreadfully embarrassed about the way the tiny skirt flared out at the back, only just covering her bottom and the tops of her stockings. She looked every inch an insubordinate schoolgirl, ripe for punishment.

Some last minor adjustments and she was ready. No time to worry about her hair. he opened the bedroom door a fraction and peeped through the crack. No one about.

She tiptoed along the corridor past her guardian's room, holding down the hem of her skirt in case one of the menservants should appear at a doorway and see her stocking-tops. When she reached the landing she scampered across it like a frightened rabbit. A little disheveled and out of breath she knocked urgently on the schoolroom door then entered.

She was eleven minutes late.

Lennox, grim and impatient in his long black gown, was waiting. As he turned she was dismayed to see the cane already in his hand.

Annoyed at her unpunctuality he was even more annoyed with himself for allowing his baser instincts to get the better of him the previous night. What in God's name had he been dreaming of? Flushed with his own self-importance he had drunk too much port, and this morning felt hung over and irritable. He'd been a fool even to think the things he'd thought. He was glad in a way that she was late for it gave him a perfect excuse to vent his ill-humour on her.

"What did I tell you yesterday about being on time?" he snapped crossly. Too intimidated by the presence of the cane to offer any explanation she merely blushed and hung her head. Her pule raced, her legs felt weak. Did he really intend to beat her with that long swishy stick? Why couldn't he use his hand instead? She'd much rather he spanked her.

Despite his mood of sullen displeasure he found it hard to take his eyes off Elizabeth, dressed as she was in school uniform. The white cotton blouse moulded her breasts--he could even see the outline of her nipples. The skirt was so short that whenever she moved she inadvertently revealed the banded welts of her stocking tops. It was enough to quicken the heart of any man.

His throat felt tight and constricted. Clearing it self-consciously he said, "Before we commence the morning's studies I shall obviously have to give you a little lesson in punctuality. Go to my desk and bend across it. As you see, I have already cleared it in readiness for you."

He watched her hungrily as she walked towards the desk, her skirt jiggling from side to side with the exotic swaying of her hips.

With pounding heart she stretched her body across the dark surface of the mahogany desk, gripping the far edge and pushing out her long black-stockinged legs behind her to brace herself.

"Bend your knees slightly, Elizabeth," he directed. She did so, the effect being to thrust her bottom into even greater prominence. How dreadfully embarrassed she felt, her behind sticking up so absurdly in the air. She knew her tiny skirt offered it no concealment at all.

He was delighted to discover that she'd gone to the trouble of wearing genuine schoolgirl panties. If anything their fleecy white snugness made her bottom look more desirable than ever.

With the tip of his cane he flicked the back of the skirt up above her waist to ensure it would not get in the way. \he was still a little worried by what she's said the previous day--something strange about being "comforted" by the spankings he'd given her. He decided whenever possible to avoid the temptation of touching her on the bottom with his hand, for he had heard several accounts from older colleagues of girls who had grown unhealthily partial to being spanked. The last thing he wanted, albeit unintentionally, was to encourage any kind of morbid fixation in the girl.

He felt thoroughly ashamed of the unethical thoughts he'd had about her the night before. It was imperative that he acted in a way that was beyond reproach. He must be judicially impartial at all times. He would reward her with praise when she did something to deserve it, but he would never let it go beyond that. He had been much too soft with her after he'd spanked her. He must never allow it to happen again. He must try to be more consistent. Brisk and firm. That was the answer--brisk and firm.

"Now," he said, addressing the submissively bent over girl as calmly as he was able. "I shall give you four strokes. I shall not ask you to take down your panties as this is your very first caning." Elizabeth gulped with relief. "However, if I have cause to punish you again today, I warn you here and now that it will be on your bare behind. Understand?" (Brisk and firm, brisk and firm--that was it!)

"Yes, sir, I understand," a tiny wavering voice answered him from the other side of the desk.

"I shall begin then. Try to keep your behind perfectly still otherwise the cane may land more than once on the same spot--and that would really be painful now, wouldn't it?" She nodded her head and whimpered.

He moved into position a couple of feet to the left of her and gave her bottom a warming-up. She froze in terror, her buttock muscles tightening instinctively. He felt his mouth go dry with excited tension.

"After each stroke, which I shall count aloud, I should like you to thank me for all the trouble I am going to, to make you into a better behaved girl. I think you'll find that apart from anything else it will help you bear your punishment more bravely."

Anyone witnessing the scene might have objected that to compel her to thank him for caning her was unnecessarily cruel. But Elizabeth was too overwhelmed by the occasion to do anything other than accept the ceremony as an essential part of her correction. She regarded him at that moment almost as a god. If he told her to strip naked in order to be whipped, then she would have done it.

"Ready?" He raised the cane. Elizabeth held her breath, her body rigid with expectation.

"ONE!"

"Uh! Thank you sir!"

"TWO!"

"Oh! Thank you sir!" Only two more strokes--yet already the fiery pain had brought tears to her eyes.

"THREE!"

"Ooh! How it stings and burns!--Thank you sir!" she gasped as the thin supple cane bit savagely into her cheeks again.

"FOUR!"

"...!" How she rolled and twisted across the desk, clenching and unclenching her buttocks in agony at the atrocious smarting. "...Th-thank...you...sir! she howled in sobbing spasms.

The anger that had driven him to cane her so soundly melted away to be replaced by pity and admiration. She had lain there bravely across the desk for the entire duration of the punishment without flinching or trying to escape. He's never in his life met such a plucky girl.

He let her lie there for several minutes rocking agitatedly from side to side as the pain slowly ebbed away, and with it her keening sobs. He tried to imagine the fiery state of her bottom beneath her panties, the four cane weals marring its velvet perfection. The thought appalled yet excited him. He felt tempted to pull down her panties there and then, and gaze in perverse delight at the damage he had wrought to her delicate alabaster cheeks. But he turned away, ashamed of his erection, and hurriedly went to replace the cane in the cupboard.

While his back was turned Elizabeth slipped her hand down her panties and explored her wounds. The throbbing weals filled her with a mixture of dread and pride. How long would they remain emblazoned on her cheeks? Hours? Days? Weeks? Had the can actually broken the skin? She inspected her fingers and was relieved to find no trace of blood.

Sitting down was once again a painful operation. The hard wooden chair only exacerbated the smarting. For the next hour or so she found it difficult to concentrate on her lessons, especially as she was inconstant fear of being caned again--this time without the protection of her panties.

But somehow she managed to survive the rest of the day without incurring Lennox's further displeasure. The caning in more senses than one kept her on her toes...

That evening she stood before the bedroom mirror in just her little cotton shimmy, gently tracing with her forefinger the blue-black indentations disfiguring her pretty bottom. The painful throbbing had subsided to an afterglow of warm sensual pleasure.

I'd still far rather be spanked, she pouted wistfully, recalling the glorious sensations of the day before when she'd lain helpless across his lap, her pubis rubbing frantically against his loins, her bottom hot and quivering from repeated contact with his hand.

By comparison he had wielded the cane with an air of cold-blooded detachment, its venomous bite creating pencil-lines of pure localized pain.

Despite that, she was still perversely proud of her weals. The realisation that they would remain etched upon her flesh for days was for her an overpowerfully eroitic one. He had set his mark on her. Branded her as a Roman would have done his slave.

She then flung herself down upon the bed and with her legs wide apart began fondling her aching sex.

Across the corridor in the guest room Lennox too lay on the bed, shirt-collar undone, trousers unbuttoned, his excited penis pointing up at the ceiling. With thumb and forefinger looped around the circumcised dome he slowly worked his way downwards to the base. It twitched and jerked as his hand rose and fell ever more quickly up and down the thick fleshy shaft.

Alone in his room he was at last giving vent to the appalling fantasies he'd been having ever since Elizabeth had first walked through the schoolroom door. In his mind he was making her strip naked. He laughed to hear her weep with shame on being told to lower her panties and expose herself completely. Eyes bathed with tears she pulled them down until they hung forlornly round her knees.

He shut his eyes and rubbed away furiously at his rock-hard penis, picturing the paradisaical delights of her virgin sex.

He imagined stroking her there between her legs, feeling her heat, insinuation his finger into her cleft, rubbing her--just like he was rubbing himself--and his finger oozed with wetness and she began to pant and plead, "Don't! Oh please stop!" (Or was it "Please, sir, oh don't stop!" she was saying?)

"Off with your shimmy and over my knee, girl," he ordered her in his daydream. Now she was in just her black stockings and garter-belt. Blubbering wretchedly she crawled across his lap. The big bulge of his erection pressed up against her naked pubis.

He engineered it so that the smacks arrived at precisely the moment his thumb and forefinger completed their lightning descent down the length of his prick, so that her round jouncy bottom received the full force of his masturbatory fury. Had such a spanking occurred in reality, she would not have been able to sit down comfortably for a fortnight.

As the final smack exploded on Elizabeth's crimson rear, Lennox came. His hand sped up and down in a blur of motion as the long milky jet of spunk shot ceilingwards. then felt like rain upon his trousers and surrounding coverlet.

Monday, October 23, 2017

Have you had to explain your interest in spanking to a medical practitioner?

Dr. Ken: I've never had any reason to tell anyone, inside the medical field or
out. And as a Spanker, I don't have any marks, bruises, etc. to try and
explain away.
There may be a couple of ladies (non-spankos) who have
an idea of my enjoyment of spanking, but one I haven't seen in years,
and the other probably doesn't know the full extent of my interest...

Anon 1: I am a spanker, and my so/gf sees a massage therapist monthly due to leg
issues she has had since an accident years ago. During the visit which
is with a female staff member, she would be wearing just panties below
the waist, so she never visits me (we live 2 hours apart) the day before
seeing him, as she always ends up leaving with some marks, bruises,
and/or handprints. No one other than me in her life presently is aware
she gets spanked. We also would never see each other ahead of her
doctor's visits. Her only oops outing herself moment occurred first time
we met, when 15 minutes after leaving, and 45 minutes after otk ended,
she stopped for gas, and while pumping, started rubbing her behind,
before realizing she could be seen. In general though, both of us are
quite careful.

Amy: Interesting question! We've had a couple of close calls where I had a
bruise or two and ended up at a doctors appointment or on a massage
table. I held my breath but neither professional said anything so I
didn't bother explaining. I did get punished once for bringing a thong
bathing suit to the beach instead of my usual shorts. Eric made me lie
out by the water, bruises fully visible to all of the onlookers.

Roz: I have never told any medical professional about our lifestyle. There
have been a few occasions where we have refrained from spanking due to
an upcoming appointment to ensure there are no marks.

Yorkie: Never been in that predicament. Fortunately. :)

KDPierre: I never brought the subject up...despite my 'out there' inclinations. I
did however, have one procedure done that I was completely unfamiliar with, not long after a pretty good
spanking. It was called a
urodynamics test and it's one of the most invasive things you could
imagine. I thought I was just going for a consultation so when the
specialist led me to room for the test to be done right in his office, I
was surprised.

For much of the test you are on a table with
stirrups much like a woman at a gynecological exam, and I know the
residual discolorations from my kinky adventure were clearly on display.
The specialist was all business, but...(and I'm not making this up)
his female assistant smiled at me a couple of times in a way that made
me wonder if she was just being friendly to a patient during an
embarrassing procedure or if she recognized the marks for what they
were.

In all honesty though, marks or not, I have never worried
too much about doctor's visits in that way. I usually have more pressing
concerns to think about. Besides, I'm paying them, and I severely doubt
I am the strangest specimen they've seen.

Anon 2: No way, this male would not be able to explain. My wife spankings leave no doubt it was a spanking.

Baxter: Before I have my annual physical, I make sure my wife doesn't spank me
for a couple of weeks prior. Surely when the doctor shoves his finger in
my butt to check my prostate, he is looking at my butt. Just don't want
some embarrassing bruising or marks there to raise suspicions or
questions. And no, I have never told anyone, only my wife knows.

A.J.: Short answer - No. It has never come up. And I would not offer to tell
him/her or think it important for my health to mention it. But, I'm
like most of your responders, A few days before my visit I watch what I
do, eat, and drink so he gets a clear picture.

That said, this
topic kinda came up with an email back and forth I had with a married
woman who spanks her husband a year or two past. The topic was spanking
children (I'm totally against it) while she was somewhat OK with it,
and abuse - what happens if you are in an accident or, in this scenario,
a normal check up and you have marks, redness, bruises, etc. What
happens when the doctor or his/her nurse assistant sees that?! Spousal
abuse? Call the police?

I (a male) am sure without a doubt that
doctors and nurses have "seen it all!", but caught, 'ya gotta' admit it -
with a smile. You look at them and say, "She's kinky, but she's really
cute, too!", or, looking at the nurse, "She said I was bad
(wink/smile!!)" and watch her laugh. Laughter being key to diffusing
the whole situation. (Not to mention I'd love to hear her comment back
on hearing that!)

But what happens when it is her tush on
display? Then it's a whole other story, one that might involve a call
to the police. "She" with the red or bruised tush in a time when
medical is attuned to abuse is GOING TO BE ASKED! Better have your
answer ready, and it better be funny and convincing.

Worse, what
happens if she comes into the emergency room unconscious and they cut
away her clothing and see a freshly spanked tush? If she is there
because of an accident, there may already be a police officer nearby,
and medical WILL tell the police. And there will be a report, and
possibly an immediate home visit. Now what?

Much like your
mother telling you to always have clean underwear, "in case you get into
an accident" - don't get into an accident after getting spanked!!

Ronnie: The question has never come up and I certainly wouldn't volunteer the
information. If I have a particular appointment/test coming up we
refrain from spanking for a few days or so to ensure no markings.

Blondie: I told my counselor that I was involved in BDSM. She was fascinated by
what I told her about it. But I have always kept my marks hidden from
medical professionals.

Wilma: As a rule Barney stops a couple of weeks before any known doctor's
appointments. A few years ago I really hurt my back/hip- to the point I
couldn't stand up or walk. I avoided going to the doctor for several
days because I was so afraid of my bruising. Eventually I had to go to
urgent care. I wore tight leggings so fortunately the doctor didn't ask
me to disrobe. A friend told me if they ask to be truthful-=not
entirely sure what I would do in that situation.

Anon 3: It was hard enough to tell my girlfriends that I wanted to be spanked.
When one who became my wife understood, and spanks soundly, I sure do
not want anyone else to know. I never knew my bottom could get so red
and last for so long. I do not know what the reaction would be, and the
fact I have a female doctor is another factor.

Hermione: Luckily, I have never had any marks that were obvious during a medical examination. I suppose if I did have, and the doctor questioned them, I would be honest about the circumstances in which they came to be, and the consensual nature of their infliction. I would not want him or her to think I was being abused.

Thank you to all who participated this week. I really enjoyed your answers. See you all next week for a very special celebration of our 200th brunch together here at Hermione's Heart. I have a request for all of you: if you can think of a topic that would make this celebration extra-special, please let me know as a comment here or in an email.

Sunday, October 22, 2017

Welcome to our weekly brunch get-together; I'm so glad you could make it! Here in the northern hemisphere the weather is becoming cooler, and the cold and flu season is nearly upon us, so please enjoy some hot soup as we discuss today's topic.

Have you ever told a doctor, nurse, therapist or other medical practitioner about your enjoyment of spanking? Do you take any precautions before a medical appointment to avoid or hide bruises or marks?

Leave your response in the comments section below, and once everyone has had a chance to speak I will publish a summary of our discussion.

Saturday, October 21, 2017

(Girl on right) Though Ms. Flossbottom's course always had a waiting
list, and no student ever skipped a class, later evaluations showed that
not only did her pupils have no grasp of the subject
matter...but most could not say what the subject even was.

Anon 1: Janet, my partner, will always spank when I dress like this.

Dave: After studying both photos , I sadly realize there isn't enough blood in
my body to support an erection AND a witty comment. Sorry.

No need to apologize, Dave!

Anon 2: (both girls) There are 2 of us and we come as a team. We have different tastes. We
will both come over. But you have to decide which of us you really want
to know.

Baxter: (Girl on left) Yeah I know what you are thinking,looking at my butt, but
trust me, you will be over my knee getting your bottom warmed with my
hairbrush before you can protest or run away.

Anon 3: (Girl on left) So my girl, this is what you think appropriate to wear to
school do you? Well a jolly good otk spanking will erase that idea
from your pretty little head...

(Girl on right) Defiance will get
you nowhere my girl now take that look off your face and get over the
desk now so I can teach that pert little bottom of yours the meaning of
respect...

Sir Wendel: Detention after school always included a spanking.

Ronnie: What are you waiting for, It's not going to spank itself?

Jack: (Girl on the left) "...but, I didn't do it!"(Girl on the right) "... I did! What are you going to do about it?"

(Girl on the left) "What ... are ... you ... looking ... at?"(Girl on the right) "Yes! WHAT are YOU looking at??!!"

(Both girls) Discipline Time

Hermione: (Both girls) Felicity and Samantha enjoyed sharing a room at Miss Clement's Academy, although Samantha liked it a bit less when Felicity got out the ruler.

For more fun and games, and maybe a little discipline, please come back for brunch. It will be served in the schoolroom in a few hours.

Friday, October 20, 2017

Thursday, October 19, 2017

My readers and I have been enjoying the ongoing story of tutor Mr. Lennox and his wayward pupil, Elizabeth, so I thought it would be fun to suggest a caption for a naughty schoolgirl. I have given you two choices: the provocative young woman on the left, and the dommish lady on the right. Caption one or both, or put them together in a situation. Let's have fun with this one!

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will publish the naughty list on Saturday.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

I did a little online research and it seems that this might be an early work of James Jennings, published by Blue Moon Books. I am not familiar with this author, but maybe some of my readers are.

Now let us see how Elizabeth complies with her tutor's order to dress appropriately for the schoolroom. I'm afraid there is no spanking in this chapter, but there is plenty to stimulate your imagination, I assure you.

IN A MIST - Chapter 6 - In which Elizabeth discovers more than her school uniform

Elizabeth closed the schoolroom door behind her and, acutely aware of her throbbing bottom, walked stiffly and painfully along the oak panelled corridor that led to her bedroom. It was named "The Pink Room" because of the colour of its walls and was by far the prettiest room in Lymchurch House, exuding an irresistible childish femininity. A gaily painted dolls house and a large wooden rocking chair stood in one corner, while tucked up in bed, their sleepy heads reclining against the pillows, lay the half dozen teddy bears she had had since she was tiny.

A hanging wardrobe, a mahogany chest of drawers, dressing table with pink velvet upholstered stool, two cane seated chairs, and one little chintz-covered armchair completed the furnishings. Pink floral curtains hung at the window and a pink woollen carpet covered the floor. The big bow window with a low sill guarded by an iron grille overlooked the drive with a side view of the top of the rose-covered pergola.

Eager to carry out her tutor's instructions straight away, Elizabeth immediately rang for Florence and explained that she wished to have a word with Mrs. Anderson. Noticing the bloom in her young mistress's cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes, Florence was bold enough to enquire how she had enjoyed her first day back at school.

Normally Elizabeth would have snapped her head off, telling Florence to mind her own business and not to be so impertinent, so the maid was quite taken aback when she smiled shyly and said "Thank you, Florence, the day went splendidly. I have already learnt a lot of things I didn't know before."

Strange, Florence thought, looking at her mistress. Who'd have thought that Miss Elizabeth of all people would enjoy being cooped up on such a lovely day in that stuffy old schoolroom!

"Florence, a word before you go," Elizabeth added, remembering the cruel way she'd treated the maid the previous evening. "I'm truly sorry I got you into trouble with Mr. Harker. It was mean and spiteful of me - will you forgive me?"

Florence, her bottom still black and blue from Tomm's belt, seriously began to doubt her mistress' sanity. Miss Elizabeth had never deigned to apologise to a soul before, let alone to a mere parlour maid. Was this some kind of practical joke?

How odd it was that both girls were suffering from smarting bottoms - Florence infinitely more so - yet neither one had the slightest inkling about the other's affliction.

"Here -" Elizabeth went and extracted from the chest of drawers several pairs of panties in purest silk, like the pair she had on, as well as a satin underslip. She pressed them into the hands of the astonished maid, saying, "Here, take these - then at least I can feel I have made it up to you in some way." Winking slyly she whispered, "Have no fear, I promise not to tell on you a second time! Now go and deliver my message to Mrs. Anderson."

"Thank you, Miss, oh thank you!" the delighted maid stammered.

Then, concealing the illicit garments beneath her pinafore, she went joyfully about her duties, shaking her head in wonder at the extraordinary change that had come over her mistress.

While waiting for the housekeeper to come Elizabeth went to sit down on the low ottoman at the foot of the bed, her favourite perch during moments of contemplation. But as soon as her tender bottom touched the leather upholstered surface she shot to her feet with a loud exclamation, as if she had sat on a drawing pin.

She had no alternative, therefore, but to receive Mrs. Anderson standing up. Like all the other occupants of Lymchurch House, with the sole exception perhaps of Mr. Tomms, she was rather afraid of Mrs. Anderson, who in her childhood nightmares had appeared as a wicked witch flying through the air on her broomstick, and Elizabeth wasn't exactly looking forward to putting her strange request about the school uniform to the forbidding old woman.

Indeed the housekeeper was not at all well disposed to being summoned at that hour when she was busy in the kitchen supervising the cook and the kitchen maids in preparation for dinner. She cursed her young mistress loudly as she laboured up the stairs, suspecting it to be another of Miss Elizabeth's stupidly childish hoaxes with which she continually plagued the servants.

She was partially pacified to learn, on entering the room, that she had not been sent on a fool's errand, and was able to give directions as to the exact whereabouts in the laundry-room of the garments that Elizabeth required. Elizabeth hastily offered to go and collect them herself, leaving Mrs. Anderson free to return immediately to her duties below stairs. Much to Elizabeth's relief the housekeeper made no reference to why her mistress should suddenly be asking for her old school uniform after all these years. Elizabeth thanked heavens that, bad-tempered though she was, Mrs. Anderson was much too dourly aloof to be a busybody.

Minutes later Elizabeth's old school clothes lay in a pile on her pink floral bedspread. She had not fetched the blazer. Her tutor had expressed no interest in that. But there were four white blouses, washed and ironed, with all the buttons intact, as well as the two grey skirts, their pleats immaculately folded.

Tentatively she held one of the skirts up against her waist and looked at herself in the mahogany-framed mirror. As she had feared, the skirt would only just be long enough to conceal the tops of her stockings. She would only have to stretch or bend slightly and whole areas of naked white thigh would be embarrassingly exposed. The thought made her heart flutter with apprehension. Would Mr. Lennox like what he saw, she wondered anxiously. She was justly proud of her long shapely legs and for a moment she toyed with the idea of trying the costume on there and then to judge its effect, but she knew Mr. Lennox would only accuse her of being vain. Besides, it was an outfit meant specifically for the schoolroom, not the bedroom, so she put the articles carefully away in the bottom drawer of her mahogany chest.

Then she considered the question of underwear. She had no slips or petticoats short enough so she fetched scissors, needle and white thread from her sewing basket and, cutting two broderie anglaise underslips down to the required length, she quickly and expertly stitched the new hems.

There was no problem what to wear beneath the blouses. She would stick to the little white shimmies she always wore next to her skin. She never wore brassieres, feeling the same way about them as she did corsets.

She had a vast collection of stockings of every colour to match her gowns and frocks. But she knew instinctively he would want her to wear black ones.

As for garter belts her white satin ones would have to do for the time being. But flicking through a copy of The Lady's Realm she found a small advertisement displaying white cotton ones, the type generally worn by senior schoolgirls. She would ask her guardian for the money as a special favour (she had grossly overspent her dress allowance that month) and send for several.

Panties were the only real problem. The frilly silk and lace ones she habitually wore would look incongruous beneath those tiny pleated skirts. She searched desperately in her underwear drawer and discovered a couple of pairs of plain cotton knickers she'd forgotten she owned. They were fluffy and fleecy and had never been worn. She was sure Mr. Lennox would not object to her bottom being snugly and demurely attired in those, and she again consulted The Lady's Realm in order to send off for a sufficient quantity for a clean pair to be worn every day.

Shoes? Definitely not high heels. Black court shoes with a slight heel would fit the bill perfectly. There now, everything was settled.

She could not work out exactly why, but for some peculiar reason Elizabeth had found the task of choosing appropriate clothes to be schooled and punished in, perversely exciting. She had even found herself patting the seat of the cotton panties she would be wearing the next day, imagining the feel of his hand landing there.

Quickly slipping off her dress and petticoat she put her hand down between her legs to confirm what she'd strongly suspected. She'd soaked the crotch of her panties with her juices.

She moved over to the mirror. Drawing the curtains so as not to be seen from the garden, she drew her panties down to her knees and slowly bent over, facing away from the mirror and looking over her shoulder so that she could see the reflected image of her bottom.

Had he found her bottom pleasing when he'd hoisted up her skirt and petticoat to spank it? She blushed, hoping that he'd liked what he'd seen, since he so obviously intended to get better acquainted with it over the next few months.

It pouted prettily back at her in the mirror as it swayed lazily from side to side. Patches of red were still there, especially on the rounded summits. Now that the fiery pain had abated, it itched and tingled deliciously. It certainly did look disgracefully smackable in all its naughty prominence. She really couldn't blame him for putting her over his knee and spanking those bouncy little hillocks as hard and thoroughly as he had.

Opening her legs wider she bent over still further until the division between her bottom-cheeks was fully revealed.

"Oh heavens, is this what he will see when he prepares me for the cane?" she gasped. As well as the delicate little opening of her anus she was presented with a clear view of her other larger orifice, dilated and moist, the lips unfolding like the petals of a flower.

Galvanised by what she saw, and by the dark steamy fantasies churning in her head, she began to masturbate. She'd been building up to this, perversely denying herself the pleasure of it until finally she could delay it no longer. Savagely she thrust two fingers deep inside her opening, not even caring if she tore the sensitive flesh in the fury of her need.

It didn't take her long to get there. Soon she convulsed and went rigid, sobbing and groaning with pleasure before sinking lifeless to the floor.

Minutes later she rose unsteadily to her feet, removing her panties altogether and using them to wipe away the sticky libation between her legs. Then, still in shimmy. garter-belt and stockings, she fell into bed and straight-away fell asleep.

That evening Mr. Harker declared himself delighted with the prodigious change that had come over his ward. The change was evident in every word she spoke and every movement she made. She gazed at Lennox dreamily and blushed whenever he spoke to her. The very pores of her skin seemed to glow with some mystical inner radiance.

"How ever did you manage it, my boy," the old man asked in amazement at the end of the meal, after Elizabeth had risen from the table, kissed him fondly on the cheek, bade Lennox a blushing good night, and departed for bed. "I had been led to expect great things from you - but to have accomplished all that -" he pointed a spidery finger at Elizabeth's empty chair " - in just one day is nothing short of miraculous!"

After a short while, Mr. Harker too went up to bed, leaving Lennox to linger over his port and cigar, pleasantly reliving the happenings of the day. The bow window was open and the curtains still undrawn to let in the warm sweet might air. He sat pensively in the fragrant stillness broken only by the throaty cooing of doves from the little dove-cote above the stables.

Heavy footsteps crunched across the gravelled drive. Tomms on his nightly rounds. His stern craggy face appeared at the open window. Tapping the pane curtly he said, "Make sure you close it properly before you go to bed, Mr. Lennox. Wouldn't do for us to be broken into during the night now, would it?"

"Rest assured I shall attend to it, Mr. Tomms. Goodnight to you." Lennox replied, a little put out that his agreeable daydreams had been disturbed by such a trivial matter as the fastening of a window.

Once in bed, sleep eluded him. Like a sponge his mind soaked up vivid images of the girl he had come to tutor. He imagined what it would be like to strip her of her layers of innocence and commit acts of unspeakable indecency upon her person. Then immediately he felt consumed with guilt for even daring to think such things.

He couldn't forgive himself that, as her appointed tutor pledged to mould her into a lady, he secretly thrilled to all those qualities in her which he had been engaged expressly to uproot. Despite his better judgment he thrilled to the sassy provocativeness of her walk, the gleam of devilment in her eye. He hoped fervently that the spankings hadn't cured her totally of her naughty behaviour else there would be nothing left in her to tame, no reason to punish her anymore.

But if that were the case then he would have to invent reasons, for he realised with a serious pang of misgiving that he was becoming seriously addicted to chastising his pupil's neat rounded little bottom. Long into the early hours he lay there in his bed, tossing fitfully, struggling to fight off an obsession that could well jeopardise his entire career. But it was useless - he was hopelessly under her spell.

The thought of her coming to him next morning dressed as a leggy schoolgirl inflamed him beyond all endurance. He knew he was sailing into deep and dangerous waters - but nothing could possibly make him alter his course.

It had never happened before with other girls he had taught. Some had been more beautiful than her, but they had been such dull timid creatures. He only had to punish them once, or just threaten them with the cane, and they would shrivel into instant obedience.

But with Elizabeth he instinctively knew that no single act of punishment would ever completely subdue her boundless spirit. No matter how severely he chastised her, her uncrushable nature would spring up again like a Phoenix rising from the fires.

He marvelled at her extraordinary response to being spanked. All the other girls he'd punished had hated it without exception and had all but expired from mortification.

But Elizabeth, although she had at first struggled and protested as much, if not more so, than his other pupils, had ended up reacting positively, almost passionately, to being spanked. Just as though it were satisfying some deep inner need.

He had never met a girl like her before, he declared in bewilderment, his conflicting emotions doing battle inside his head until they mingled together in a thick swirling mist.

Roll on the morrow! I am anxious to see the effect Elizabeth's attire has on Mr. Lennox, as I assume you are. You will have to wait until next week, though.

Monday, October 16, 2017

Amy: Lovely question. For me, the perfect spanking starts with Eric figuring out I've done something and calling me on it from afar. (For example, not following through on something I've told him I was going to do.) He'll ask me about it, I'll admit to it, and then my body will come alive as he builds the anticipation of the consequences that will befall my "pretty ass" when he gets home. He'll use delicious threats and I'll build up the offense if I'm wanting to take more. When it's time, we'll both be wound up and he'll order me to our room. We will "talk", while he undresses me, and he will insist that I speak up and call him sir. Over his knee I will go for a good sound hand-spanking and from there, it will build into implements galore. I'll be forced into the corner, while he watches from our bed, and questions if I've learned my lesson. If not, he'll give me more. If so, he'll kiss me passionately and we will make our way to bed. Ahhhh. So nice.

Roz: I love this question. Lots of teasing, buildup and threats to a nice erotic spanking. Naked OTK for some nice hand spanking then OTB with implements with pauses for some teasing then onto other activities. Rick would be in control all the way, some light hair pulling, placing me as he wants me etc.

Jack: Your questions are always interesting. This one even more so.

A perfect spanking, for me, would be me spanking a female, consensually. The setting would be private, preferably OUR bedroom, a time, a place and emotions conducive to romance. My partner would be an empowered woman, intelligent, independent and self confident, a leader with formal, and expert power, a sense of humor, and a desire to be with me. Several different positions would be of interest, but I find the over the lap position – sitting on the bad so she can have he head on the bed or a pillow to be the most intimate. Bending over or lying on the bed or with her on all fours on the bed bring a greater feeling of submissiveness, so I like those positions, too. Implements would include something wooden, something leather and, of course, my hand. Emotions would have to be low drama, submissive, and then contrition would have to be present, at least towards the end. The aftercare would be as extensive, mostly petting and supporting and forgiving vocalization, but would likely include corner time - if it was helpful for either of us to get to the contrition. All of this though, would be dependent on ensuring that it worked for her, too. And the spanking would be over when I heard the three magic words, sir, sorry and condom (as “Is it on yet?” or “Can I help you put that on?”).

Thank you for your question, and for giving me a chance to reflect on this one. Love your blog. Please keep up the good work, Hermione.

Sir Wendel: The misses would be spanked in the kitchen. I would sit on a dinner chair. She would pull her pants down to her knees then go across my lap. I would pull her panties down and the spank her for several minutes. No talking just spanking. Afterwards I would send her to the bedroom. I would comfort her.

Hermione: In the morning, Ron would warn me that a spanking was in the cards for me later that day. He would drop hints about it all day, but keep me unsure as to when it would happen. When he finally commands me to go upstairs and get ready, I would go up to the bedroom and remove everything from the waist down. Ron would then sit on the bed and order me across his lap. He would deliver a good, long hand spanking.

Then I would be told to get the leather rose paddle and bend over the bed. I would get a good dose of the paddle, followed by the bath brush. By this time I would be very sore, and ready for cuddles. We would lie on the bed together, Ron would rub my sore bottom and cuddle me fo a while. Then we would proceed to more intimate activities.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Welcome, dear friends, to our weekly gathering. It has been a turbulent week, with so many distressing situations all over our world. Let's take time now to relax and turn our thoughts to a more pleasant subject.

How would you describe the perfect spanking? Tell us about the setting, partner, position, implements, emotions, aftercare, and any other details you care to include.

Please leave your response as a comment, and as always, you may comment anonymously if you prefer. Once everyone has had a chance to speak, I will publish a summary of our discussion.

Saturday, October 14, 2017

KSPierre: My dream job is being an established movie, literary, political, and social
critic...who designs sets for horror movies on the side!

Hands63: My dream job is the host of “The Bachelorette “.

Michael M: My dream job is Captain of a superyacht.

Anon: My dream job is being The Lone Spanker, a man who travels the world
and administers spankings to naughty women who think they're too old to
be spanked but are desperately in need of being taken across a
gentleman's lap and soundly paddled on their bare bottoms.

My
dream job is being a spanking therapist who specializes in teaching
older couples the benefits of male partners administering sound
spankings to their wayward female partners.

My dream job is being a writer.

Jack: My dream job is being a teacher. Teaching children is good -
teaching adults is even better and it is what I have my BS degree in.
But I am not doing that now. Maybe one day again..

Sir Wendel: My dream job is being a Walt Disney World character making kids and grown-ups smile.

js666: My dream job is Punishment Master at a girls' school. Someone once wrote in to a
teenage advice column about being sent to the "punishment master" at her
all-girls school -- some guy whose full-time job it is to administer
spankings to teenage girls. Yeah right.

Friday, October 13, 2017

Today's FAIL isn't humorous, I'm afraid. It's a real tragedy that is still unfolding as I write this. Wildfires are raging out of control in the wine-growing region of California, and are spreading northward to the Oregon border.

One of our favourite online radio stations is 102.7 The Wolf, broadcasting from Sonoma County. I told you about it some time ago in this post.

Sonoma County is one of the areas that has been practically wiped out by the fire. Homes, businesses and vineyards have been transformed into ash. Sue Hall and Darren McCormick, whose voices I hear every day, have become friends to us. I smile every time I hear the advertisement for Sam's For Play Cafe. which for a long time I thought was Sam's Foreplay Cafe. Feel good stories about native residents and their good deeds are a regular feature, ending with the line, "We believe in Sonoma County". Ron and I are very concerned about all the inhabitants of their community, even though we live thousands of miles away. The Wolf is offline, although apparently still on the air. So for now we will wait, watch and pray.

Now, how about my readers? Are any of you near the fires, or are you concerned about friends or family who might be in danger, or who have been evacuated?